How to Train Your Veser
by Lira is a Girl's Name
Summary: The important thing is, Lamont doesn't share. He doesn't consider it unreasonable to expect Veser to be loyal. He especially doesn't appreciate Worth getting Veser drunk and impinging upon yet another one of Lamont's relationships. Lamont/Veser.


AN: I think this fic needs a qualifier. It was written as a gift to Talc, who specified that she wanted Lamont/Veser, established relationship, where Veser sleeps with someone else and Lamont gets jealous. He disciplines Veser as a result. Seeing as Veser was physically abused by his father, I've had some strong second thoughts about posting this fic here. You'd think that suffering so at the hands of a parent, Veser wouldn't want or enjoy that sort of treatment from a lover. So please, my canon for this is that Lamont did ease Veser into this sort of play in a responsible manner, and everything they do is entirely consensual. I think it's sort of a case of doing something your lover enjoys even when it isn't your favorite, and Veser's feeling definitely isn't a "please sir, may I have another." Anyway, now that I've waffled and made myself feel less weird about Veser's position in this, enjoy. The characters are still the property of the marvelous Tessa Stone, and now more than ever I mean no trespass and am making no profit.

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HOW TO TRAIN YOUR VESER

-by: Lira-

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Veser will remember, later, that he'd been looking for Lamont.

Veser had no interest in Monty's skeezy "best friend" for the man's own sake. Rather, he had a pronounced disinterest that had sparked up back when he first learned Lamont and Worth's genitalia had ever been in close proximity. Why Monty would ever want to fuck that filthy back-alley hack was a mystery to him. Especially when Lamont could always fuck Veser instead, and for better mileage... Yeah pretty much whenever he wanted.

Veser had not been looking for Lamont at Worth's because he was jealous. He just figured, hey, why wait for Lamont to come home when he could catch him in the middle of his deliveries? Especially when Worth had a perfectly good mattress in his back room that he should not begrudge Veser and Lamont the use of. Veser would never admit that he'd miscalculated when Lamont would be coming around to Worth's, and he would never turn down a drink when it was free and he didn't have to prove he was of age.

Worth was already on his way to drunk when Veser showed up, which must have been why the so-called doctor was feeling friendly enough to share. The drink of the night turned out to be tequila, and after the first two shots Veser learned that it had been payment from one of Worth's patients. It was information that should have been worrisome, but with liquor already warming his belly, Veser couldn't bring himself to care. Veser had seen Worth and Lamont drink before, and he knew Worth could hold his liquor. Well, so could Veser. Or so Veser thought.

Before the bottle was halfway empty, the clothes hit the floor. Veser dimly recalled making an assertion about just how well he could use his teeth, baring them in a grimace-shaped grin for inspection. Just as dimly, he remembered Worth goading him on, if he was so good why didn't Lamont have the bruises to prove it, and Worth must have known Veser would rage at Worth still seeing Monty anywhere Veser might actually like to bite.

Veser learned that the feel of teeth scraping against bone straight through the tight layer of flesh over top was not actually a pleasant sensation. He learned that Worth did not actually bruise easily, that cutting into the man and making him bleed was comparatively simple. He learned that no matter how skilled he thought he might be, he did not actually want to give Worth head. And he learned that if there was one thing he would always like, it was being fucked over a surface, even when that surface was Worth's desk and what he was being fucked by was Worth's cock.

Most importantly, though, Veser learned that even while drunk off his ass, it made his stomach lurch and his heart sink to see Lamont strolling into the office just as he was finishing.

Veser supposed he should be happy that upon stumbling away from the desk and trying to pull his pants up with one hand, he stopped to throw up before reaching Lamont. He was still too drunk to feel ashamed that upon finishing, he only managed to slump against Monty's chest, mumble something that was probably affectionate, and black out.

Veser next remembered lying on Lamont's couch, head-achy and hung over but at least in his right mind again. He gave a low groan and sat up, not ready to think about how he'd come to be there. Even as he got his bearings, Lamont walked in from the other room, gait far too measured to mean anything good. Veser tipped himself back against the couch cushions, thereby raising his gaze from the area of Lamont's knees to his face. He wondered if maybe the moment of vertigo hadn't actually passed; he could not remember seeing Lamont's expression that closed to him when they were in the man's apartment, by themselves.

A moment later the emotion he was observing registered with Veser. It was stern disapproval. He tried to remember what exactly had happened, and if he should be feeling guilty.

"Veser," Lamont said, crossing his arms over his chest.

It was not how he was usually addressed. Lamont was standing maybe six feet distant and yet it felt so far away, and Veser's head felt as if it were trying to tremble apart with aching. It took him that long to register the wooden paddle dangling from Lamont's hand, like an afterthought, except for the part where Lamont's knuckles were white where he was maintaining his grip.

"Do you even remember what you've done?" Lamont asked, almost conversationally, his tone of voice perfectly modulated and controlled. "Do you?"

Veser couldn't answer right away, He didn't remember, not exactly, couldn't Lamont just tell him what the fucking problem was? He was starting to realize that this wasn't calm he was observing. Actually, shit, Monty was angry. Angrier that Veser could remember him being, because Lamont didn't just go /_dead_/ like this, not on him.

"Hey, look, I'll make it up to you," Veser started, not about to admit that it was all a foggy, ugly blur. "C'mere, Mont-"

"Stop it," Lamont told him, cutting him off, and Veser could see the fingers around the paddle tightening further. Lamont was holding himself away like he wouldn't let himself touch Veser, and Veser wondered with a bit of an involuntary shiver what would happen if Lamont dropped that and came forward.

Veser stopped.

Lamont's arms tensed further, and then Veser could see him visibly willing himself to relax. He uncrossed his arms, let them settle at his sides, breathed in. But then the fingers of his free hand moved to run along the edge of the paddle, as if he was distracting himself from Veser's transgression with thoughts of what he would finally do to Veser for making it. Veser wished they could hurry along to that part; he didn't like Lamont keeping himself out of reach while scrutinizing Veser, and his hangover was keeping him from eliminating the distance himself.

"I think that I told you I wasn't going to share," Lamont said, the heat creeping into his voice. "Me calling you a slut is not my permission to act like one."

Veser could feel his pride rising, in spite of everything, at the realization that it was /_hard/_ for Lamont to hold back like that.

"Were you trying to make me jealous, Veser?" Lamont asked, tight anger finally impacting every word. Lamont took a step forward, planting his fist into the sofa cushion beside Veser's head. "Because you've succeeded. Are you happy?"

The distance was gone and Veser could stare right into Lamont's eyes, but he hadn't been trying anything and when he opened his mouth to say it Lamont jerked his chin up with the edge of the paddle.

"Be careful not to lie to me," Lamont told him. "You don't want to make this any worse."

The hand on the sofa cushion dropped to Veser's lap, groping him through his pants with a roughness that was not born from enthusiasm. Lamont was just as certain with his off hand as with his dominant one, the touch a message that Veser was quite capable of deciphering. /_This_/ belonged to Lamont. /_This_/ was his and he would not tolerate sharing, would hoard his possessions jealously. Both hands were on Veser then, pulling him up from the couch, Lamont's manner perfunctory.

"Drop your pants," Lamont bid him, when they were both standing.

Veser opened his mouth, on reflex, so used to bantering.

"Veser you don't want to argue with me," Lamont told him.

Veser decided, just then, that he didn't. He also didn't really want to let down his pants just then. Any other time he could preen and take it, could endure the impact of Lamont's hand because anything that should have been demeaning, dropping from the man's lips, was said in the heat of passion. Being told that he was a slut made him feel like hot shit, like he was doing something right and he was _/loving_/ it, and he'd take it all in and ask for more. It was entirely different when Lamont just /_looked_/ at him, like Veser was nothing more than another delivery he had to see to, before he could spend his time doing something else more to his tastes.

Veser didn't like feeling as if touching him would be /_work,_/ something unpleasant to be done with.

"Go on," Lamont urged him voice low.

Veser looked back, thumbs hooking under the waistband of his jeans, teetering on the threshold of the action. He almost couldn't believe he wanted Lamont to be angrier, but he did. He believed it was under there. Lurking coiled in all of Lamont's tight muscles. But he'd prefer if Lamont would yell, so he could see it.

Veser popped the button on his fly and shoved his jeans and his boxers down.

He could see Lamont considering, just for a second, giving the order and making Veser do it all on his own. And then he could see the concession being made, Lamont's hands on his shoulders turning him around even as the words "Bend over" were muttered gruffly into his ear. Veser was shoved back into the couch, catching himself on his elbows and briefly pressing his face to the cushions.

"I want you to remember that I don't share with anyone," Lamont told him, urgently, his hand resting on the small of Veser's back.

For a second, Veser wondered where the paddle had gone, thought it just before the wood connected with his ass. Lamont did not begin easily, on the lighter end of things, to warm Veser up. He didn't give any more warning than those vicious words, and Veser realized that those other times they'd been in a position similar to this, Lamont had used his hand.

"Did you hear me, Veser?" Lamont demanded.

Another hard smack. Veser hissed out, startled, biting his lip.

"Yes!" he yelped, before Lamont could try that again. "I heard."

"What did you do wrong, Veser?" Lamont asked, finally able to impose a reasonable tone once again.

"I fucked someone else," Veser blurted out, the words tumbling free.

"That's right," Lamont agreed, briefly going vicious once again.

The paddle descended again, just as harshly. Veser clenched his teeth when he felt the impact, but still gave a quiet grunt when he was driven forward into the sofa.

"It's not a lesson if it doesn't hurt," Lamont told him grimly.

Another smack.

"Does it hurt, Veser?"

Veser bit his lip, hard, heedless of his teeth. He was unwilling to say that it did, that it stung something awful, that he couldn't tell what Lamont was trying to do any more. This was more impersonal than a spanking, turned over Lamont's knee so that he could rub himself against Lamont's lap and Lamont would pretend like he didn't notice. The way he'd been positioned, he couldn't even rub himself against the couch; his hips were too far away from the sofa cushions. He didn't want to admit that it was working, he felt guilty for doing it, and repenting, and it wasn't like he'd even really wanted to fuck Worth in the first place.

Fucking Worth.

"I'm sorry I fucked your friend, okay?" Veser blurted out, unable to make it sound appeasing.

Lamont swatted him on the ass again for his troubles, and to Veser it felt like the hardest hit yet.

"Why are you sorry?" Lamont urged him.

"Be-Because," Veser started, stuttering when the next impact interrupted him. "Because you don't want to share with Worth, I don't know, fuck, I wouldn't even want to do that again!"

Lamont brought down the paddle, one last time, but after that he stopped.

"I hope you have some ideas about how you're going to make it up to me," Lamont said, so that the heat finally sounded like want as much as anger.

Veser did, but Lamont had gone hard, so that his ass was stinging sharply and feeling uncomfortably warm. He wasn't sure if he could turn around just yet. He gave a low moan into the sofa cushion, but he knew Lamont heard it, felt the hand on his back before Lamont turned him back around. The look on Lamont's face was so much better, no more of that carefully enforced detachment. Instead, the usual hot lust and that possessive edge, Lamont's touch the right kind of claiming that gave Veser shivers. Fuck, yes, he'd make up anything to /_this_/ man.

Veser had to lower himself to the carpet carefully, since his ass really was one huge ache that was not quite far enough distant to feel good. He held onto the sides of Lamont's pants with his hands, and despite everything, his fingers were steady and controlled as he undid the man's fly. This was familiar, such common behavior for the two of them, and Veser licked his lips in something like anticipation. He couldn't help thinking that Lamont would feel all better if he could just do this. Veser was that damn good.

"You know," Veser said, looking up at Lamont with one hand wrapped comfortably around the man's hard cock. "I never did do this with him. With Worth."

Veser didn't want to think about it any more than that, so he dropped his mouth onto Lamont, taking in half of the length with one smooth motion. He twisted his head as he pulled back, tongue dragging along Lamont's flesh before swirling around the head of the man's cock. When Veser lowered his head a second time he took Lamont all of the way in, the muscles of his throat relaxing to allow passage when pressed. It was then a careful rhythm of swallowing around Lamont, of suction and lips and tongue and even just the lightest brush of teeth, to the degree that Veser had perfected to suit Lamont's exact taste for pleasure-pain.

Veser continued, head bobbing gently and cheeks occasionally hollowing, Lamont's hand sliding into his hair and bracing against the back of Veser's head. Veser would let Lamont guide him when Lamont wanted, would let Lamont fuck his mouth if that was what the man wanted. Still he would continue, face a perfect mask of calm pleasure throughout. Lamont gripped the back of Veser's head when he came, and Veser swallowed easily, his throat working rhythmically until Lamont was spent.

Lamont pulled back and Veser leaned away, looking up at the man above him. Lamont's fingers were still tangled in Veser's hair, and Lamont urged Veser up from the floor with a self-assured laziness brought on by orgasm. Veser kissed Lamont on the mouth, and Lamont only kissed back, his other hand going straight for Veser's cock. It was almost the same motion as before, a most definite gesture of ownership. But this time Veser could feel the want, could imagine it being transferred into him from mouth-to-mouth contact.

He hadn't realized he was close – he was pretty sure it must have been giving head like that – but Lamont only had to stroke him for a short while. Monty's jerking was only as quick and as rough as Veser liked it, as evidenced by the way the teenager would pulse over his hand as he came. Veser pulled away after, sure as hell not going to admit that he needed the reassurance that everything really was back to normal.

"I'd better be the only one who gets to feel that mouth, fuck, Ves," Lamont told him, in that conversational tone that almost masked the strength of feeling.

It was good enough for Veser.

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End file.
